


Five

by INMH



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Humor, Implied Bossuet/Joly/Musichetta, Implied Combeferre/Prouvaire, M/M, Romance, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Les Miserables kink meme. In which Enjolras finds that he really likes certain aspects of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's the link to the kinkmeme in question, if anyone's interested!](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/9761.html#comments)

Combeferre was the first.

It wasn't Enjolras's first experience with alcohol, but it was his first time imbibing with specific intentions. Though pleasantly buzzed, Enjolras was very aware of what he was doing when he edged closer and closer to his friend, eventually cupping the other's face and kissing him deeply. He reasoned that if Combeferre was unreceptive, Enjolras could save face by pretending to be out of his senses and they could forget that the incident had ever happened.

Fortunately, rather than pulling away, Combeferre leaned in closer and slipped an arm around Enjolras's waist and pulled him deeper. The open books on Combeferre's bed lay forgotten, and Enjolras heard one fall to the floor as they pulled themselves fully onto the bed. The blonde ended up straddling Combeferre's hips, hands resting on his chest as he bent down into the kiss.

This was Enjolras's first sexual encounter of any kind. He had never kissed, never touched, not with anyone- the desire to kiss Combeferre had been born of curiosity, and the realization that the bottle in his hand might provide an opportunity to experiment without the consequences that could have arisen otherwise. He knew the mechanics of sex, but did not actually know the _art_ of sex that came with experience.

Combeferre clearly remembered this, as he eventually gave a little push on Enjolras's shoulders to part them. "You haven't done this before, have you?" He asked. Enjolras shook his head. "Then I suppose I'll be the one leading you this time." Combeferre grinned.

Enjolras was an observant student that night. Combeferre laid him out, undid his trousers and put his mouth on Enjolras's cock. Coherent thoughts were far and few as the other young man's head bobbed up and down (eventually requiring that Combeferre remove his glasses), but it was during this time that Enjolras finally began to understand what was so great about sexual intimacy, why others were so concerned with it when all he saw it as was a distraction.

Maybe it was a distraction, but it was a good one.

Enjolras's fingers curled into Combeferre's shoulders, shivering and sighing shakily as a warm, tense heat began to gather in his lower stomach. He knew that this sensation was likely the prelude to an orgasm- again, the mechanics of the act did not escape him- but not a single one of Combeferre's medical textbooks or Bahorel's dirty jokes did justice to just how _good_ it felt.

Combeferre brought him to orgasm twice: Once with his mouth and again with his hands a few minutes after. It was apparent that his friend was familiar with those of the male persuasion, because he seemed to know just the right way to grip, pull, and massage to turn Enjolras into a writhing, whimpering ( _whimpering_ , of all things!) mess atop his sheets.

It was after Enjolras began to regain his senses, breathing shallowly and waiting for the remaining tremors to die away, that he noticed: Combeferre was still aroused, a significantly sized lump in his pants fairly obvious to anyone who might look. The man himself was lying with his nose pressed into Enjolras's hair and a hand on his chest. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Enjolras rolled into his side and brushed his lips with Combeferre's, which turned again into something deeper. But Combeferre broke the kiss once more when, to his surprise, the heel of Enjolras's hand pressed against his clothed erection. He moved to speak, but increased pressure made him gasp and clutch at the blonde's shoulder.

"Enjolras-"

"Hm?"

"You don't need to. I don't want you to think that you need to." Combeferre assured.

"Of course not- I _want_ to."

And so Enjolras returned them to the position they had started in: Combeferre lying back on the bed while he straddled his hips. Once his pants were open and he was exposed, Enjolras had to think for a moment and consider Combeferre's earlier actions. It was best to assume that all that he had done had been done for a reason, and so for now, it would probably be better if Enjolras mimicked him.

He lowered his head and tentatively took the tip of Combeferre's cock into his mouth. The taste was… Not terrible, but not what he would call particularly pleasant either.

"C-Careful." Combeferre warned, even as his eyes fell shut and his hand shook on the back of Enjolras's neck. "Don't go too fast. It takes practice, and you might- you might ch _ok-_ "

Enjolras heeded his friend's advice without stopping, slowly swallowing Combeferre down and minding that he didn't choke. So focused was he on doing so that, unfortunately, he couldn't get a look at Combeferre's face. But he did hear the short, shallow breaths that indicated pleasure, and so Enjolras assumed that he was at least doing it right.

His tongue pressed experimentally at the tip, and Enjolras started when Combeferre jumped sharply, a stuttered moan escaping from between clenched teeth. Luckily, the motion didn't cause Enjolras to choke or gag, but he decided to move on so that it didn't happen again. He gave a tentative suck, and then slowly started to move up and down the way Combeferre had earlier.

It wasn't quite as difficult as he thought it would be; a few times Enjolras had to stop and pull back a bit from discomfort, but for the most part the only issue was that his jaw was starting to ache. He could feel Combeferre's movements becoming more frequent, desperate, and figured that it was only a matter of seconds before he would climax when-

"Enjolras, Enjolras, stop."

Enjolras pulled up and away, meeting Combeferre's gaze. He was pleased (and more than a bit aroused) to see that the medical student looked significantly dazed. "What?"

"I'm not sure you want to keep your mouth there much longer."

"You did."

"Yes, well, I've been doing it for a while. I don't think you'd like the taste."

Enjolras weighed his options, considered, and then decided to heed Combeferre's advice. "Then how would you like me to finish?" Combeferre laid a hand over Enjolras's right, which was still pressing his hip into the bed. "Ah."

"For future reference," Combeferre remarked as Enjolras took him in hand, "it's usually better to use something for lubrication before you use your hands. You might- chafe- otherwise-" He groaned deeply but softly as Enjolras began to tug and rub, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin.

It was after he slid his hands to the top and rubbed a thumb over the tip that Combeferre's moan became downright guttural, and not long after there was a spurt of semen that hit Enjolras's sleeve. He couldn't bring himself to care much, though: Combeferre's typically beautifully-composed face was overcome with bliss, and it was a sight to behold.

To Enjolras's surprise, he found that the tingling in his stomach had returned.

This… He liked it.

[-]

Joly was upset.

It did not take a great deal of detective work on Enjolras's part to discern that Bossuet and Musichetta were involved; he had heard the latter name thrown around before, but did not have a face to attach to it. Whatever grievance they had committed, however, was evidently enough to make the young medical student quite irritable.

"How could they?" Joly muttered, more to himself than Enjolras as he stared into his glass of untouched alcohol (evidently so angry he couldn't even get drunk). Normally he was so calm and quiet and just generally easy-going- it was unusual to hear him even slightly disgruntled with another human being, _especially_ Bossuet. "How _could_ they? As if I wasn't even there-"

"Who did what?" He already knew the 'who', but it would be impolite to reveal that he had heard anything through a few mumbled words from Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

Joly started a bit, as though he had completely forgotten that Enjolras was still there. There were some staff members still present in the Musain, but everyone else had gone home. The two were mostly alone.

"Oh, it's nothing. Nothing I care to repeat, anyway. How are you, Enjolras? We haven't had a discussion outside of political matters in days."

Looking back later on, Enjolras would find that there was a bit of confusion from how a quiet conversation about banal day-to-day happenings at the corner table managed to turn into kisses. All that mattered was that it did happen- and when Joly suddenly moved and Enjolras slipped a bit, when his hand landed on Joly's lap to steady himself he found hardness. Joly's groan was what sealed it.

Enjolras thought it might be good to relieve his friend's stress.

He guided Joly to the alleyway adjacent to the Musain by the hand. Joly made no protest, did not ask where they were going or why, not even when Enjolras gently pressed him against the outer wall of the building and kissed him fully.

This was different from his encounter with Combeferre: This was semi-public, a running risk of being caught. But there was a seemingly great distance between this alley and either of their flats, and Enjolras sensed that this was a very much in-the-moment situation; as in, the desire would die in the time it took to go somewhere more suitable. Still, while the risk was present, it was disproportionate to the benefits- and Joly was not objecting, so Enjolras continued on.

"Is this sanitary?" Was the closest thing Joly came to an objection. More likely than not this was one of the _least_ sanitary places in Paris, but so long as they didn't touch anything but one another Enjolras assumed they would be fine.

"Perhaps not. Would you like to stop?"

Joly craned his neck around and cast a wary glance at the wall, but then sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "I don't suppose anyone's died from touching a dirty wall."

Enjolras had to bite back a little chuckle, because he had a feeling Joly would be researching that very idea the next time he had the opportunity to leaf through the university's library. "Simply wash your jacket when you get home, and make great pains not to touch it until you've done so."

He kissed Joly again, one hand creeping down to brush the front of his trousers. The student twitched at the contact and squeezed Enjolras's hips a little harder, tugging him closer. Enjolras undid his pants and slipped a hand inside, and Joly's jerk was a lot more pronounced this time, enough that he pulled back and said, "No?"

"Oh, no, sorry- Your hand's cold!" Joly laughed, and Enjolras smiled.

"My apologies, friend." Perhaps it would be best to skip to something a little warmer.

Enjolras dropped carefully to his knees, grimacing briefly at the feeling of gravel digging into them as he did. Compulsively, he glanced back up to see if Joly appeared to be content with the direction this was taking. He didn't seem to object- he did, however, look surprised at the sight of the ABC's respected leader getting to his knees in a dark alley for him.

He carefully pulled Joly loose from his pants and gave a soft, tentative stroke- after that, another quick look up at Joly to make sure there were no objections, no regrets, no sudden desires to leave things at that and go home. This was not like with Combeferre: They were friends, but Enjolras was not as close with Joly as he was with Combeferre. However, the brunette only shivered and watched him with anticipation until Enjolras took him into his mouth.

Enjolras was cautious here. As Joly was not Combeferre he would, conceivably, not act the same way during sex. Maybe he was prone to making sudden movements, the kind that might end badly for Enjolras's throat. He kept his hands on Joly's hips, pressing them to the wall, and was content to see that the other young man had apparently forgotten about his fear of contamination for a moment.

Other than that, he moved the same way he had with Combeferre: Taking him in slowly, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before running down the underside. Joly uttered a brief, choked whimper and gripped Enjolras's hair a little tightly. His hands were jumping around, from hair to shoulders to wall to wringing each other, with an energy that belied the stillness he more or less maintained otherwise.

After a time, Enjolras carefully removed some of the pressure from Joly's hips. When he was confident enough in the slow, shallow rocking motion that other man had adopted, Enjolras reached down with one hand and pressed a hand against his own erection; the moan he produced upon doing so elicited a much louder sound from Joly, the vibration providing a new, enhanced stimulation to an already sensitive body-part.

"Enjolras," Joly warned, breathing heavily through his nose. "I'm going to- _oh-_ you might want to-"

And as he had with Combeferre, Enjolras pulled off. But it seemed that what he had given was insufficient for an orgasm, because Joly was still painfully hard and shaking like a leaf for it. Enjolras hadn't finished either, cock still straining at his own pants as well. He considered for a moment, and then came up with the most logical solution: He pulled himself out, got nice and close, and kissed Joly once more.

The noises Joly made were loud enough that Enjolras made the kisses as deep and as long as he dared, swallowing those sounds that might have alerted someone to their presence and interrupted. If there were such an interruption, they were so far along that stopping to deal with it wasn't a likely option- they would continue until finished and then deal without whoever had stumbled upon their tryst.

Enjolras ground against Joly, and when he felt more than just good friction, he grimaced. Combeferre had warned him about lubrication and he had heeded it for Joly, but neglected to do so for himself. The discomfort was manageable, though, especially when Joly reached down and grasped Enjolras's cock, stroking and fondling as they pushed themselves together.

He came about a minute and a half after Enjolras, and his pants were harsh in the blonde's ears.

[-]

Courfeyrac was excited.

"Combeferre? Joly? Come now, Enjolras, you can't taunt me with that and then leave out details!"

He was the first that Enjolras had actually bothered to relate anything to. Neither Joly nor Combeferre approached Enjolras for anything related to sex following their trysts, and neither mentioned it again. However, they still spoke easily with Enjolras, which implied that the encounters had not done anything to hinder their friendships.

Enjolras related the encounters in general terms- even that was enough to make him redden slightly, and so he avoided giving any more specific details than were absolutely necessary. Intimate actions, it seemed, were far easier for him than intimate words. Courfeyrac did not seem to mind.

"So… You have a thing for dicks?"

Enjolras made a face. "That's a rather crass way of putting it."

"But true?"

He considered for a moment, and then slowly nodded. "I suppose so." In his limited experience with sexual activities, were there other things to be done that didn't strictly involve genitalia?

"Did either of them fuck you?"

"No."

Something wicked lit up in Courfeyrac's eyes. "Would you like to be?"

Enjolras's eyes widened slightly. "Now?"

"Whenever you like- Or not at all, if you don't want to."

Enjolras thought about it for a moment. There was a significant distance between what he had been doing and what Courfeyrac was proposing. He also recalled some of those jokes he had heard of before. "…Will I be able to walk when we're done?" His voice was a little wry, but the question was serious.

Courfeyrac laughed and swung his legs up onto his bed. "Do you want to?"

"Preferably. I do have classes to walk to, and having to possibly explain a limp to one of our friends is not an especially pleasant idea."

"If this is a yes, then I shall be gentle. You'll be a little shaky tonight, but tomorrow you'll be right as rain." Enjolras was satisfied with this answer. He edged forward until he was sitting directly beside Courfeyrac and then leaned in for a kiss. Courfeyrac had Combeferre's experience and Joly's restlessness- his right hand held Enjolras's cheek, but his left came down to unbutton Enjolras's vest, sliding a hand inside and brushing it over a nipple.

Oh. So there _were_ other acts to partake in.

"Mmm, off with these, I think." Courfeyrac said, tugging at Enjolras's shirt before getting off of the bed and pulling at the buttons of his own vest. It took a few minutes, but it was yet another aspect of sex that Enjolras found pleasurable: Watching Courfeyrac strip his clothing off was definitely a very enjoyable act, and being nude himself added a layer of sensuality he hadn't quite expected.

This marked the first occasion that Enjolras had been naked during a sexual encounter. The previous two had only required the opening and pulling-down of pants and undergarments, whereas Courfeyrac's plans were best carried out with no hindrance from clothing. His friend's eyes roamed over Enjolras's body, and the scrutiny only served to arouse Enjolras further. The same could be said for Courfeyrac- he was almost fully-erect.

The dark-haired man returned to the bed and laid back. "If you could?" He inquired, motioning towards his cock. "I have salve if you prefer, but since you seem to enjoy it so much…"

Courfeyrac's playfulness was spreading- Enjolras felt his lips quirk upwards, and he came back to the bed a bit more slowly than perhaps he was capable of moving. He took his time, lowering his head to Courfeyrac's thighs in a moment of inspiration and nipping and licking there, so ridiculously close to where Courfeyrac wanted him without actually touching it.

"Oh, go ahead, take your time," Courfeyrac said lightly, and Enjolras could hear the grin in his voice. "You're the one who's missing out. Being fucked is _amazing_ ; you see stars, Enjolras, you really do. But no, go on teasing; think that it's _me_ that's missing out on having you."

Enjolras rolled his eyes before he could stop himself, but then lowered his mouth onto Courfeyrac's dick and began to thoroughly cover it with saliva, pressing his tongue against it on occasion and listening to his friend hiss. Courfeyrac had not stopped talking- quite the opposite, he seemed to say more.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Enjolras, Combeferre taught you well, you have the mouth of a God- _Christ_ , you're amazing, I cannot possibly believe you've only done this twice before, how long did it take Combeferre and Joly to- _shit_ \- come when you were doing this to them- _fuck!_ " Enjolras cut off the stream of praise by removing one hand from Courfeyrac's cock and giving his balls a light squeeze. "-little _tease_ , you are!"

Enjolras had to pull off so that he didn't choke as he laughed. But as soon as he did, Courfeyrac pulled him in for a deep, frantic kiss, one hand moving down Enjolras's back until he felt something prodding at his anus; they were wet, and he realized that Courfeyrac must have been sucking on them occasionally when Enjolras was otherwise preoccupied.

"If I go too quickly, let me know." Courfeyrac murmured into his ear as he slipped a finger inside. Enjolras's eyes fell shut, and he let his forehead drop onto Courfeyrac's shoulder as the curious sensation grew stronger with each finger added. It was uncomfortable for a time, but when Courfeyrac finally brushed against a spot inside that made his eyes fly open and an errant noise leave his mouth, it gave him a fair taste of what was to come. Courfeyrac did not touch that place again, but soon after withdrew his fingers and met Enjolras's eyes. "What way would you prefer to do this, Enjolras?"

"I… Don't know."

"I thought so. There's your hands and knees, on your back, on my lap, either of the first two against a wall-" The grin returned. "There are a few others, but they require a bit more… Experience."

Enjolras's smile was dry. "Sometimes, Courfeyrac, I wonder what you do in your spare time. Other times, I think maybe it is best if I remain ignorant." He sighed, thought for a moment, and then said, "On my back, I suppose."

And on his back he was, in a matter of seconds. Courfeyrac waited for him to adjust himself against the pillows, smiling. He ran a hand over Enjolras's chest that eventually traveled down to his thighs, tugging them up to wrap around his waist. "If it hurts, Enjolras-"

"I'll tell you."

"I mean it. I know how stubborn and long-suffering you are. But you need to tell me, all right? And don't bother lying- one of the benefits of facing you is that I can see your expression." He leaned down and kissed Enjolras again, and after a few seconds there was contact, then pressure, then stretching- Finally, Courfeyrac was sheathed inside of him, and Enjolras couldn't lie: There was pain.

"It's manageable." He said when he saw that Courfeyrac was about to ask. "I'm fine."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. Go."

The movement began, and Enjolras's mouth set in a firm line as he tried to relax. He knew there was pleasure to be found, judging from what had happened when he was being prepped, but it was taking a little more time than he thought would be needed. Maybe suggesting that Courfeyrac change something he was doing might-

" _Oh-_ " Enjolras's eyes rolled shut as pure pleasure shot up his spine, made every inch of him tingle, made his hips roll against his will in an attempt to bring Courfeyrac deeper. There, there it was! That was what he was waiting for. Now in his stride, Courfeyrac managed to strike that spot with most thrusts, and everything eventually dissolved into a haze of overwhelming bliss. Enjolras made noises that he had never made in his twenty-two years of life, but even if he was coherent he wouldn't be able to bring himself to regret them.

It was better than anything he had expected.

[-]

Prouvaire was eager.

He had approached Enjolras not too differently from the way Enjolras had approached Combeferre some time ago: Curiously, though quite a bit more uncertainly, and eager for something to happen. While Enjolras had not previously harbored any romantic or sexual interest in Prouvaire, he wasn't averse to a coupling and didn't want to hurt the younger man with rejection.

And so Enjolras took Prouvaire back to his flat, taking time to pin him against the wall in a kiss like he had with Joly, slowly rubbing him through his trousers. Prouvaire gasped and shuddered into Enjolras's neck and mumbled soft pleas into his skin, groaning intermittently. "Is it too much, Jehan?" Enjolras inquired.

Prouvaire had wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders and buried his head into his jacket. When he shook his head, it bumped Enjolras's jaw. "No, it's- _Oh_ , it's fine, please don't stop."

Enjolras began to suspect that Prouvaire had been thinking about this much longer than Enjolras had thought about approaching Combeferre, because it was taking him much less time to get excited than he had expected. The whimpers grew more frantic, the grip on Enjolras's jacket tighter; finally, he slipped a hand into the younger man's pants and took hold of him.

Enjolras was startled when Prouvaire gasped loudly, sharply, and made a high-pitched yelping noise that was immediately followed by wetness on his hand. Surprised by the sudden resolution, Enjolras put his free arm around Prouvaire's waist and held him steady until he was coherent again. "That was fast."

Prouvaire blushed. "I'm sorry, was that not good?"

"No, no, nothing wrong with that. Do you still want to-?"

"Yes! Yes- I mean, if you still want to." His nervousness was making it painfully obvious that not only was this his first time with a man, but likely also his first time with anyone, ever.

Enjolras laid the young poet out on his bed the way Combeferre had laid him out on his own. Prouvaire was trembling beneath his lips, shivering and breathing quite audibly with what seemed to be a mixture of excitement and pleasure. His hands were tentatively grasping at Enjolras's shoulders, back, hips, neck- one time his hands went lower than the leader's waist and he yelped in surprise before pulling his hands away. Enjolras sighed.

"It's all right."

"No, no, I don't- All's well."

The poet's body was tense, and it seemed that Enjolras's ministrations were only serving to make him more anxious. "I can stop if you're not-"

"Oh no, I can- I'm just- I've never done this before, and I…" Prouvaire sucked in a deep breath, and finally his hands dropped a bit more steadily onto Enjolras's waist. "I'm still a touch nervous."

"Everyone is, I imagine." Enjolras said simply, one hand slipping down between them into the younger man's pants. "Think of it this way: You'll have new material for your verses when we're done."

Prouvaire's laugh was still anxious, but less so than before. "I suppose there's that. Not- Not that that's the only thing I'm looking forward to. That is to say, I'm not just in this for that, because that would be _unfair-!_ "

He had been so busy talking that Enjolras had slid down and taken him into his mouth. A loud moan was cut off by what Enjolras assumed was Prouvaire's hand covering his mouth; the other man's hips were shuddering, so overwhelmed that his body couldn't quite figure out what to do, struggling between arching up into Enjolras's mouth and withdrawing from the potent sensation. Enjolras remembered those feelings, so new and overpowering, well.

This time, Enjolras limited the use of his mouth. It was for pleasure, yes, but also so that he could properly lubricate Prouvaire for what was to come. This time, while one hand kept Prouvaire steady, the other reached down and undid his own pants. He carefully began to work himself open the same, slow way that Courfeyrac had (if not a bit more messily).

When Enjolras sat up again, Prouvaire looked disappointed- until Enjolras stood up and started to remove his clothing. The younger man swallowed hard, and then quickly began to undo his own. He got all the way down to his shirt, the last item, before hesitating. He glanced up at Enjolras. "Is it all right if I leave this on?"

Enjolras nodded, and Prouvaire sighed with what appeared to be relief. Enjolras left his own shirt on as well, in the hopes that doing so might relax Prouvaire further. Then he climbed back onto the bed.

After their coupling, Courfeyrac had given Enjolras some pointers for any future sexual encounters; particularly those involving penetration. Prouvaire was taking very little initiative during this encounter, instead going where Enjolras led him. He wanted what he wanted, but was either too overwhelmed or inexperienced to actually go about carrying them out. Tonight, the poet was learning: Therefore, it would be best if Enjolras chose a position that wouldn't require Prouvaire to do too much.

The irony that he himself was now the experienced one did not escape Enjolras.

"Lie back," He instructed, rising to his knees and taking Prouvaire's cock in hand. "and if you're uncomfortable, tell me." Prouvaire nodded, and Enjolras didn't bother saying anything further. Prouvaire was easy enough to read, and not quite as stubborn as he was. There was not, to his knowledge, much pain to be had in this position (if any), but if there was, the poet would not likely hide it from him.

He gradually guided himself down onto Prouvaire's cock, guarding his expression so that the other did not become alarmed at an appearance of pain. Prouvaire's hands had settled on his hips and were now clutching hard enough to almost hurt, but Enjolras managed to ignore it until he was seated properly, fully. Once he had, he gave the younger man's hand a little tap, and he obligingly released some of the pressure.

Being on top was quite a different experience, precisely as Courfeyrac had warned him it would be: It was more effort, yes, but also allowed Enjolras to move at own pace. After a few minutes he had worked up a reasonable tempo, rising and falling steadily and very quickly feeling a spark in that place deep inside.

Even more importantly, it seemed that Prouvaire had finally let go and fallen into a state of utter contentment- or something more than contentment, given the expression on his face- and was rolling his hips up to match Enjolras's movements, which made the whole situation that much more pleasurable than it might have been otherwise.

Enjolras's eyes had slipped shut, but they popped open again when he felt Prouvaire reach forward and take him into hand. He froze when he saw the blonde's gaze upon him, thinking that perhaps he had done something wrong. Instead, Enjolras simply reached down and adjusted his grip. "Gently, now." He advised, and Prouvaire nodded before stroking him in time with their movements.

There was one downside to being in the position he was: When Enjolras finally arched his back and released, limbs turned to mush from the force of his orgasm (Prouvaire having done so not long before), he was still left with the task of lifting himself off of Prouvaire and lying down.

"Next time," Enjolras suggested, one hand gently rubbing Prouvaire's forearm, "you might approach Combeferre. He's a willing teacher, and will probably be happy that you did so." Recalling the looks Combeferre had taken to throwing Prouvaire's way during meetings as of late, he thought that this was very likely.

They'd thank him for it later.

[-]

Grantaire was sober- Shockingly enough.

Enjolras greatly preferred a sober Grantaire to a drunken Grantaire. Drunken Grantaire was every bit the cynic he was when sober, but drunk the cynicism came off as belligerent- surprisingly composed for his state, but agitating. The more sober he was, the sharper and more eloquent Grantaire was in explaining his views and defending them. Enjolras learned early on that that intellect was… _Attractive_ to him.

But somehow, the idea of approaching Grantaire was less feasible than approaching Combeferre or Joly or Courfeyrac or Prouvaire. Something stopped Enjolras, made him hesitate and eventually back away from any formulating plans even when Grantaire was as close to sober as he was capable of being. Somehow, the idea that Grantaire might push him away, roll his eyes and make some remark about how the lines in the "fine marble statue" were starting to turn red as though with human blood made Enjolras feel poorly.

And yes, Enjolras expected such a line from him. Grantaire was a cynic, and it was plausible that he might bite in ways that the others had not.

It was here that Enjolras thought to employ the same method he had with Combeferre: Pretending to be drunk, and disavowing all actions as his own if the attempt went over badly. He was not necessarily looking for sex, but merely to see what level of receptiveness Grantaire might have towards him. He made sure he sat by the window with a bottle of alcohol clear for all to see, but occasionally tipped the mouth of the bottle over the edge of the windowsill when no one was looking.

The café drained of people bit by bit, and Enjolras kept an eye on Grantaire as he waited for him to get up and leave as well. He was in mid-conversation when the dark-haired young man finally stood up and announced his departure to the remaining patrons. "Good night, gentle folk! I will see you all some other day. Preferably with more absinthe in my system than is safe for human consumption." His tablemates laughed and bid him farewell.

"And so, you see, it was not at all my fault: If that stuffy buzzard can't keep his timeline straight, then why should I be held responsible for it either?" Courfeyrac was saying. Enjolras nodded absently.

"Indeed. I think I might go now, Courfeyrac. It's getting late."

The other man frowned. "Late? We've had much later nights than this, I-" Then he saw Grantaire leaving through the door, and happened to see Enjolras's gaze intent upon his back. "Oh, oh, I see." Courfeyrac grinned and nodded. "Good luck."

Having only been truly drunk once before (and not, admittedly, remembering too much of the experience) Enjolras had to play at obvious drunkenness in a way that hadn't been entirely necessary with Combeferre. With Combeferre, Enjolras had assumed that the harshest rejection he would receive was a firm 'no' and a recommendation that he sleep the alcohol off; he was going under the presumption that Grantaire's reaction might be stronger.

He made the play, falling into step alongside Grantaire, starting conversation quickly because Grantaire did not live far from the Musain and therefore gave a limited window of time for Enjolras to do what he needed to. It was difficult to tell if the dark-haired young man was buying into the ruse, though, and after a few minutes of lightly slurring his words and occasionally missing a step, they were almost at Grantaire's building and Enjolras decided that it was time to act.

"Grantaire-" A gentle hand on the shoulder, standing before him and pulling him into a kiss- Enjolras belatedly remembered that he should probably not kiss as well as he usually did, given that he was supposedly drunk and therefore not as composed as was typical of him.

It lasted, perhaps, thirty seconds. Grantaire did not respond, but also did not push Enjolras away. He tasted absinthe on the other man's lips, but knew for a fact that he wasn't drunk this particular night: Bahorel had feigned heart-failure when Grantaire had actually turned down an offer of alcohol, to which the (not) drunk had responded that he was no slave to alcohol- unless he chose to be. Whether or not that statement was completely accurate was up for debate, but now was not the time.

When Enjolras pulled back, he was a bit anxious to see a small smirk on the other man's face. "What?"

"Oh, Enjolras: The 'I'm drunk and don't know what I'm doing' approach? Really?" Grantaire sounded amused. "Have you forgotten who you're dealing with? I practically _invented_ that one."

Enjolras froze, a panic he couldn't recall ever feeling before seizing his heart. "I…?" Grantaire heard the question in his voice and scoffed.

"Oh please, you're a terrible fake-drunk. Besides, I haven't seen you drink a drop tonight. It's a shame, though: I imagine seeing you intoxicated would be one of the rare wonders of the world." Strangely enough, Grantaire didn't seem to be even remotely bothered by what had happened; if anything, he was entertained by it. At the moment, though, Enjolras could not discern if that amusement was being taken at his expense or not.

Best to save face and walk away now.

"Right. Goodbye, then."

"Enjolras, wait!" Grantaire's voice still spoke of a smile. "Where are you going?"

"I've erred, Grantaire. It won't happen again."

"Oh God, you don't _get it_ , do you?"

"Get _what?_ " Enjolras said finally, turning back around to face the other man.

"You don't get it. You see signs of civil unrest hidden in the quality of bread at the baker's, but you cannot see-?" Grantaire broke off into breathless laughter that consumed every part of his body. Enjolras flushed, continuing to not understand.

"My apologies. You're right- I don't 'get it'." He moved to leave, thoroughly embarrassed, but Grantaire caught him by the wrist and tugged him back. He was still giggling.

"Peace! I don't mean- You just- I can't believe you- Oh, the hell with it." And just like that, Grantaire swooped in with an easy kiss that, after a moment, filled Enjolras with relief. When they pulled away, Grantaire looked a little surprised. "Have you done this before?"

"I have."

"With who?"  
"Is that important?" Enjolras wasn't certain he wanted to discuss those details at the moment. Grantaire, he sensed, might not react with the same amusement and enthusiasm that Courfeyrac had.

Grantaire shrugged, and Enjolras had a feeling he hadn't heard the last of it. "Care to come and visit with me, Enjolras?" There was very little opportunity to mistake his intentions.

Enjolras followed him up to his flat, and from there things fell into place as though they had been planning this tryst for months in advance. Grantaire lit a candle so that they might be able to see one another, and then they removed their clothing and climbed onto the bed.

In a way, Enjolras was reminded of his coupling with Courfeyrac: There was much more kissing, much more touching, much more closeness than had been with the others. They spent a good five or so minute on these things alone, before Grantaire settled on Enjolras lap and guided a hand to his hip. "Would you…?"

Enjolras had to take a moment to think about what was being asked of him; and once he understood, his chest rose and fell quickly as he thought about it. "I haven't done that before. Not to someone else." Whether or not Grantaire read into the implication within that sentence was unclear. "It could hurt."

"I'm aware."

"And you… _Want_ to do that? With me?"

"I'd like to do _everything_ with you." Grantaire said it as though he'd wanted to say it for a good, long time. "God, if you'd permit it, I'd gladly partake in inventing things that no one's ever _dreamed_ of doing in bed together."

Enjolras let out a laugh before he could stop himself.

He wet his fingers, and then prompted Grantaire to lie back. Enjolras hovered above his cock, hand moving into position below, and then said, "I get the impression, Grantaire, that you have given this some thought before. Explain." And before the young man could respond, Enjolras took him into his mouth and slid two fingers inside.

" _Ah_ \- W-Well, who _wouldn't_ have the occasional fantasy or two- or seven- about you?" Grantaire chuckled as his fists twisted in the sheets. "You are a god made flesh upon the earth, here to grace us mere mortals with your beauty." He laughed quite hard when Enjolras managed to direct a flat look at him, even from his awkward position. "You have your mouth on my cock and your hand in my ass, Enjolras; it is the fastest way to ensure that someone will wax poetic about your better qualities!"

"Hm." Enjolras did it on purpose, and was satisfied to see Grantaire's head tip back and his eyes fall shut.

"In all… All seriousness," Grantaire continued with a slight tremor to his voice as a fourth finger was added, "I do admire you. Quite a bit. And have for a- a time. You are eloquent and informed, and have the- _hmm_ \- beauty and charisma to endear yourself to others; even if I do find your political views to be highly idealized and unreal _istic!_ " He gasped as Enjolras crooked a finger and found the same spot Courfeyrac had during their night together. The blonde was finding that interrupting Grantaire's speech was an unexpectedly delightful activity: Normally it was much harder to throw him off balance when sober (drunk, it was a touch easier).

A throb of the organ in his mouth warned him that now would be a good time to desist, and Enjolras pulled off and out of Grantaire, climbing up the bed so that he could kiss him again. In between them he said, "You really think that kindly of me?"

"Yes…" Grantaire drawled. "Though I never did think I would have the opportunity to express it. You are as hard and unmovable as stone on the best of days, and _forgive me_ , I did not intend that as a pun in the slightest."

Enjolras chuckled and guided himself into Grantaire. "You're forgiven."

This was yet another joy of sex revealed to him: Fucking rather than being fucked was a very enjoyable event, and the sensation was, if possible, better than Combeferre's mouth had been on him that first night. It was tighter, hotter, wetter, and Grantaire's squirming and groaning somehow made it even more arousing. " _Enjolras_ -"

"It's good?"

"It's _very_ good. I'll be finished before we start if you don't move now." And so he did, also reaching down to take Grantaire in hand and lazily stroke while they moved together. They exchanged messy kisses as Grantaire's fingers dug into Enjolras's shoulders and his ankles into his lower-back, and the dark-haired man positively _whined_ when Enjolras gave a particularly firm squeeze.

The pressure built, the feeling grew stronger and stronger, and Enjolras shuddered hard shortly before everything went very bright, the rush of his heartbeat mixed with Grantaire's moans in his ears. He was still driving into his partner, though, and his hand continued to move on his cock as well, and it was only a minute or two after his own climax that he heard Grantaire call "Enjolras!", arch sharply into the man above him, and then fall still.

They laid together in silence after Enjolras pulled out, panting quietly and waiting for the earth to stop shaking. After a time, Grantaire rolled onto his side and gazed at Enjolras with affection. The innocence in his eyes belied the words that next came out of his mouth:

"Do you really contest my claim that you are a god made flesh upon the earth? Because you certainly fuck like one."

Enjolras simply laughed, and then kissed him quiet.

-End

**Author's Note:**

> I am laughing so hard right now, because I think this is easily the longest piece of porn I’ve ever written. It’s literally 7000 words of almost pure smut. XD


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